


Appointments

by Janice_Lester



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Kink Bingo 2011, M/M, Sex Work, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris likes tentacles.  He looks for someone with tentacles.  He finds Zach.  Sex follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appointments

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the January "alternates and alternatives" mini-challenge at [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/), to hit the "tentacles" and "prostitution" kinks (it was supposed to hit three others as well, but that was just me being an over-achiever and these two turned out to be _plenty_ ). This is set in an AU where some people have tentacles, and in which Zach is a prostitute and Chris is... wait for it... a Hollywood movie star. ;-) As this scenario might suggest, this fic features tentacle sex for money. Could be read as the start of something beautiful, or... not. Beta'd by [](http://secretsolitaire.livejournal.com/profile)[secretsolitaire](http://secretsolitaire.livejournal.com/). **Disclaimer:** I don't know these people and I made all this up. The real ZQ is not a prostitute and almost certainly does not have tentacles. This is fiction, or, put another way, this is lies. I am suitably ashamed. Also, I make no money from this endeavour.

 

It isn’t hard to find a prostitute with tentacles. What’s tricky is to find one you can hire without leaving any kind of paper trail or getting caught by the paparazzi. One who won’t sell you out to the tabloids. Chris has long since come to terms with the idea that one day, no matter how careful he is, his sexuality is going to be a public sensation. But dealing with the fallout from _Chris Pine’s gay lover tells ALL!_ doesn’t sound anywhere near as bad as dealing with the fallout from _Chris Pine PAYS for WEIRD SEX with TENTACLED MALE ESCORT!_ Though he does admit it might not seem _quite_ as bad if he refrained from employing quite so many capital letters in his imaginary headlines.

Anyway, Chris may be an actor, but he is also a Berkeley-trained researcher, so he doesn’t allow himself to be put off by the sheer number of ads he finds online for people who aren’t what he’s looking for. Women with tentacles are very, very popular with a particular niche of men who pay for sex. But Chris’s tastes where women are concerned are old-fashioned. He likes boobs, a nice smile, someone who laughs at his jokes. He has no need to pay for that, or to hide it from the press. Celebrity culture happily permits him, even now in his mid-thirties when most of his cohort have settled down into matrimony, to date and screw as many beautiful women as he likes. So he’s not interested in the websites of tentacled ladies. And he’s not interested in the hundreds of LA-resident rent boys whose ads prominently display photos of their cocks which clearly show balls and sometimes pubic hair but no tentacular delights. Even the first few actual honest-to-God tentacled men he finds don’t appeal. One’s an exclusive bottom. One’s far too muscular for Chris’s taste. One misspells “come”, “tentacles”, and “dominant”, all in the space of a 50-word advertisement.

But, eventually, just as he’s about to give up for the night and quite possibly forever, man, Chris strikes gold.

The man’s name is Zach. He’s tall, dark, and slender. He uses big words, and you actually have to click a link to see his naked photos, he doesn’t treat them as his primary appeal. And he has two of the most beautiful long, gently tapered tentacles Chris has ever seen, just hanging out there on either side of his rather nice cock, while the man himself smirks as if he’s very, very far from ashamed of his assets. In other pictures they’re fully retracted. In one picture, the man is idly fingering the hole into which one of the tentacles has withdrawn. Chris shivers, suddenly caught up imagining what it might be like to tongue teasingly at that little hole until the tentacle inside gets so worked up it simply _has_ to slide slickly out and attempt to fondle and fuck him.

Chris has to pause to jerk off before he trusts himself to compose an email.

_Dear Zach,_

_I saw your ad online, and I’m intrigued._

_I don’t know if it’s the done thing, but I’d like to get to know you a little bit before taking advantage of any of the services listed in your blurb. Would you be amenable to a dinner date? You can name the place, but I’m moderately well-known and would prefer somewhere reasonably private/discreet._

_Chris._

There, that should do it, he thinks, compulsively reading the draft five more times anyway. He’s hinted that discretion is something he’s willing to pay handsomely for, and he’ll soon find out whether Zach is savvy enough to parse that. He takes a deep breath, then hits send.

***

“Wow,” Zach says, lounging artfully back on the booth seat. The restaurant he’s chosen is inexpensive, and not terribly popular or hip, but Chris has heard only good things about the food. “You’re a lot better looking than my typical client.”

Chris frowns. “Are you supposed to say that?”

Zach smirks. “Perhaps I say it to every client?”

Chris doubts it. Besides, he _is_ much better looking than most people, even in this town. He’s better looking than Zach, though the guy looks _damn_ fine in that dark shirt and skinny tie. “So where are you from, originally?”

They chat over dinner. Both the chat and the dinner are of distinctly high quality. It’s surprising how quickly Chris starts to feel comfortable with this man.

“So, I want to make another appointment,” he says casually, after they’ve made their coffee orders. “For something… more private.”

He glances up, is relieved to see no return of that arrogant smirk. Zach simply nods his understanding.

“We can set a time now, if you like. Or you can email me with your requirements. Sometimes that’s easier than discussing it aloud.”

Chris fights the urge to loosen his collar. Is it that obvious he’s nervous? Some actor he is. “Where, uh—where would we, you know?”

 _Fuck._ Definitely obvious he’s nervous _now_.

“A hotel room, a car, your place, whatever will make you feel safe and comfortable. I can be nondescript enough not to attract photographers’ attention, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afra—”

“Figure of speech. Your place, then? Will you need me to bring anything, or prepare in any unusual way?”

Chris shakes his head. At least that one’s an easy answer. He basically just wants to get his hands on Zach and his… yeah.

“Okay,” Zach says. “I’m pretty busy next week, but the week after any night but Thursday would work. Unless you’d prefer daytime? I charge extra for that, by the way. Cuts into my me time and, more importantly, my sleeping time. Makes me cranky.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want _that_. So, Friday night, then? I’ll email you the address and stuff.”

“Sounds good.”

Their coffee arrives, and they drink. Chris feels a whole lot lighter, suddenly. And it’s a bonus to find that Zach is someone he can be comfortably silent with, and that it’s mutual. He’s most definitely looking forward to their next appointment.

***

Chris opens the door before the doorbell has even stopped ringing, and then has to stand there stupidly and swallow several times before he can speak.

Casual suits Zach. Narrow jeans, black hoody, Chucks? Oh, yes, Chris approves.

“Um, come in?” he manages, stepping back out of the way. “Please.”

Zach waits until the door’s safely closed, and then leans in to peck Chris’s cheek. It’s a more personal greeting than he’d have expected, somehow. Then he’s off and looking politely around the apartment, the kind of survey that’s invariably followed by—

“Nice place,” Zach says.

Chris smiles appropriately. He can’t really take the credit, since he just chose the place and then hired a decorator, but he doesn’t much want to talk about any shit like that.

“So, I have to be a jackass and tell you: people know exactly where I am, and there will be trouble if for any reason I don’t emerge from your lair intact in a reasonable time.” He smiles to sweeten it.

Chris waves off the concern. “It’s fine. Hey, I’m glad you do that kind of thing. Gotta stay safe. Can I get you anything, by the way? A drink?”

Zach shrugs. “I’m at your disposal. Is having a drink what _you’d_ like to do?”

Chris thinks about it, then slowly shakes his head. “Can we—can we just—?” _Fuck_ , it’s hard to speak without a script sometimes.

“Go into the bedroom?” Zach suggests lightly. “We can do that. Lead on.”

Chris leads on.

“You understand my rules about condoms and so on?”

He has to clear his throat before he answers. The rules are pretty simple; it’s okay to perform oral on Zach without any precautions, Zach understands and accepts any risk there, but pretty much everything else requires a condom. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Would you like me to undress?” Zach helpfully closes the bedroom door behind them. He somehow seems very large, very male, very _present_ in here, among Chris’s things.

“No, I—just your shoes and the hoody, if that’s—?”

“You’re not going to offend me, Chris. If you make a suggestion that’s completely beyond the pale, rest assured that I will tell you so.” His smile disappears into his hoody as he pulls it off over his head. Then he tosses the black fabric on the floor and throws himself onto the bed where he bounces, sits up grinning, and starts removing his shoes.

Best to put on some music, Chris decides. This will feel more normal then, less like a slightly awkward business transaction in a downtown bank or something. He goes with the radio, for variety, and turns it down enough that it shouldn’t be a distraction. Then he goes to join Zach on the bed.

Zach makes no objection as Chris guides him down onto his back, then snuggles into his side. Somehow, he thought he’d be braver, more assertive, more like he is with women. But he always knows the women he sleeps with, and none of them have ever had tentacles for him to play with. Of fucking _course_ it’s nervous-making, he chides himself. Just—just chill.

“Would you like to make out a bit?”

Chris would, he really would. “Is that okay?”

“How’s your breath?”

“Minty fresh. Brushed my teeth just before you got here.”

“Then it’s fine.” And Zach slides a hand up the back of Chris’s neck, into his hair, and pulls him into a kiss.

Okay, so this is more his speed, this is comfortable and safe and, yeah, sexy, with the way Zach’s tongue teases at his mouth, the way Zach’s body feels stretched out against his, the small sounds of reassurance or approval Zach makes. Chris rolls happily on top and kisses harder, especially when big hands find his ass and rub deliciously.

It’s not long before Chris is pulling their t-shirts up, wanting to feel Zach’s warm skin against his own. The tickle of Zach’s happy trail turns out to be quite a revelation. Zach suckles his lower lip, and Chris shudders even as he’s reaching to brush experimentally at a nipple.

Zach rolls them abruptly, apparently so he can pull his shirt off over his head, and it’s a slick enough move that it reminds Chris unpleasantly that he’s dealing with a professional here. He’s an actor, though. He can compartmentalise. And the feel of that lightly-muscled body as he runs his hands up Zach’s back and down his sides is certainly incentive enough to make the effort.

“So tell me,” Zach says, voice gone all growly, in between kisses to Chris’s neck, “is it the tentacles? You like the tentacles, huh?”

Chris groans, arching involuntarily up. He has Zach back under him in a second, then sits up so he can start working on the fly of those over-tight grey jeans. “I think they’re so goddamn sexy it drives me _crazy_ just thinking about them.” He looks up, catches the look of—something in Zach’s dark eyes. Something real. Something that sucks in real praise, even if everything else bounces right off. He’s seen that look before, in the eyes of actors. The best ones. For the first time, he feels a flicker of interest in Zach’s past, Zach’s _real_ past, not the sanitised version they chewed over at the restaurant. What did this striking man come to Hollywood wanting to be?

If he’d had any concerns the tentacles might be shy, they’re quickly dispelled; as soon as he gets Zach’s jeans open, the two muscular tendrils pop out to help push the pants down.

“Hi,” Chris breathes. “Aren’t you just…” He touches one, watches in wonder as it curls gently around his finger, then rocks as if shaking his hand. He looks up to see Zach gazing indulgently down at him. After that, Chris gets him naked in a hell of a hurry. The tentacles are smooth, moist without being slimy—from the fluid-lined sheaths they’ve just emerged from, he supposes—and wonderfully tapered. He doesn’t think the full length of either is in play yet, but that’s okay. It’s only when he lowers his head to kiss and taste one that he even really registers Zach’s fat, hard cock and hairy balls. And then he doesn’t know what he wants to lick and suck first.

_Liar._

He’s never given a blow-job to a tentacle before, but he wantonly opens his mouth and attempts it now, letting an inch or two of smooth pink flesh rub over his tongue, then further back. It squirms, and that’s weird, but definitely weird- _wonderful_. Chris sucks, stroking the remainder of the tentacle’s length gently, hand over hand until, yes, _finally_ he gets a helpless moan out of Zach, and the other tentacle surges up to curl itself lightly around the back of Chris’s neck and keep him close. He’s beginning to wish he had more hands, man.

“That’s good?” he says, panting, having released the first tentacle so he can grab for the second.

“You have no idea,” Zach says fervently. “See anything else you like?”

Chris does, but he’s _definitely_ going to have to rescue his denim-crushed cock before he can have any more fun. He says so, and Zach’s resulting laugh is rich and, unless Chris is very much mistaken, genuine.

Funny how much less daunting it seems to have someone see him in his birthday suit once he’s crazy turned on.

“How, uh, how long and, uh, prehensile are they? I mean, I’ve seen porn where they fuck people, but, you know, can they…?”

Zach has propped himself up on his elbows, apparently to watch Chris undress. “You want me to wrap them around your cock? Jerk you off with my tentacles?”

“What are you, a mind-reader?”

Zach snorts. “What else would it be? If you wanted something… unusually creative, you’d have emailed to make sure I was okay with it. And fully extended—” a pause while he demonstrates, both tentacles appearing to grow as more hidden length extrudes out of Zach’s body “—they’re actually long enough that I can comb my hair with them. It’s a great time-saver.”

Chris relaxes, bounces back onto the bed. “Okay,” he says, when he’s come safely to rest. And managed to stifle his delighted gig—er, manly laughter. “Let’s see what you can do with those beauties while I foolishly challenge myself to give you the best head you’ve ever had.”

Zach smiles. There are teeth. And a raised eyebrow. And Chris gets absolutely no warning at all, there’s no hint of unusual concentration on Zach’s face, he doesn’t even break eye contact to see what he’s doing. There’s just, quite suddenly, a warm, silky tentacle looping itself around his dick. He groans in approval, carefully repositions so as not to squash or wrench any tentacles, and lowers himself mouth first on Zach’s erection.

As he sucks, he lets his hands explore, weighing Zach’s balls, gently exploring the place the right-hand-side tentacle emerges from his body, stretching up to follow that happy trail with one curious fingertip. The tentacles massage his own dick in unpredictable, sinuous, endless waves, and Chris hums his pleasure around his spit-slick mouthful.

“Just so you know,” Zach pants, after some indeterminate time has passed in utter, utter bliss, “if you don’t want me to come just yet, now’s the time to say.”

Oh, Chris wants. Chris most definitely wants. He twirls his tongue over the head of Zach’s dick, presses at his perineum, and relishes the single deep groan he hears before his mouth is flooded with semen. Then he moves, pushes up with an effort to sit on his heels, feels the tentacles smoothly readjust. Now he can watch them at work on his cock, and that is just so—

God.

“You are so unbelievably hot,” he hears himself say, and blushes even as Zach smiles indulgently.

“You wanna spurt all over my tentacles?”

That image is all Chris needs to push him over the edge. He comes so hard he sees stars, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall right off the bed and hit his head. But then it’s over, and Zach is guiding him down to lie in his arms, and it’s nice, so nice.

“I paid for two hours, right?” he mumbles into Zach’s chest.

“Uh huh.”

“And that wasn’t even one hour?”

“Nope.”

“So we can cuddle?”

He feels as well as hears the man’s deep, gentle chuckle. “Yeah, we can cuddle. Though we should probably think about cleaning up pretty soon.”

“Spoilsport.”

Zach just tightens his arms, and Chris sighs in a way that sounds disturbingly lovestruck as he relaxes into the embrace. Trust him to fall for the first pair of tentacles he gets his hands on.

They are _definitely_ going to be doing this again.

***END***


End file.
